Of Pride and Joy
by Mad3798
Summary: His brown cloak was suddenly flying; stripped off of his body in the form of rags as he ruthlessly pulled and ripped the stubborn clothing away. Each tear confirmed his fears- that a plush, sixteen year old boy breathed underneath. He was alive... again.
1. Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I will apologize now for any spelling errors you may find. I'm just a sixteen year old girl who writes to get the ideas out of my head, and while I do try, I recognize that I am not the best writer out there and do not plan to pursue a career in this field. I plan to write short chapters but upload often as writing longer chapters causes me to lose interest much faster than I would care to admit.

Please, review and comment! Tell me what you liked and give me pointers!

* * *

**Chapter 1: **

Sasori was a puppetmaster through and through. Most would say his greatest feat was constructing the first human puppet: himself. The process was extensive, extremely painful, and nothing short of a miracle even in his capable hands- of course he was proud. However Sasori had another idea as to his greatest accomplishment; it was the feat of completely erasing his humanity. The hollowing of his body was the art- everlasting- but the true marvel laid in the hollowing of his heart.

He remembered snippets here and there of his last moments. Offending pink hair and his hag of a grandmother who, despite every precaution created, managed to defeat him.

He could also recall the shock; Mother and Father puppets with their swords embedded deeply into his heart. His final words... a reward to the little girl that had bested him.

Then, as with any death, darkness.

* * *

"Wake up, my child."

Sasori stirred at the voice, cracking open an eye before shielding himself from the bright, harsh light. Everything hurt; from his arms to his legs, which felt heavy as lead. Lowering his arm to weakly prop himself onto an elbow, Sasori gazed around, acutely aware of a number of things.

First off, it would appear he was no longer dead; something he wasn't necessarily pleased with. Pride went a long way, and to explain to the Akatsuki that he was killed off by a pink-haired brat (if they weren't already aware) would be... well, nothing short of unpleasant.

That is, if he could even _get_ home.

It looked as though he were currently occupying the space between nothingness, and well, more nothingness. The walls, the ceiling, and the ground were indistinguishable from each other- just a white background that seemed to stretch endlessly around him.

That aside, rising from the dead and waking up in an uninhabited 'dimension' was the least of his problems. What alarmed the stoic puppetmaster most was the pull of sleep on his eyelids, the burning in his limbs, and the aching feeling emitting from where his stomach should NOT be.

After twenty years, Sasori hardly recognized the uncomfortable sensation as hunger.

Pieces of his brown cloak were suddenly flying; stripped off of his body in the form of rags as he ruthlessly pulled and ripped the stubborn clothing away. Each tear confirmed his fears- that a plush, sixteen year old boy breathed underneath the clothing.

His hands were immediately on himself, touching and invading any inch he possible could. As he did, Sasori soaked in every sensation and tingle with growing agitation. His life's work, supposedly everlasting, had failed him.

"Yes, love. Your life has been in vain."

In that moment, Sasori could feel everything acutely, and not just the physicalities that accompanied his new body. Love. Grief. Hatred. Betrayal- everything he had abandoned long ago came barreling back at him full force. His heart felt like it was breaking; beating and aching harder than it ever had, proving every battle up til now to be pointless in comparison, and when his heart couldn't contain it all any longer, Sasori felt his 'emotions' bubble up into his throat.

"You can do it, Sasori. We believe in you..."

Throwing his head back, Sasori screamed. Loud and hoarse, it tore at his vocal chords and assaulted the construct of his surroundings, ripping apart the neverending white and replacing it with a new scene- this time with color- like it were wallpaper.

A girl bleeds into his vision, slight concern clouding her exotic features as she paces back and forth in a small bedroom, all while repeating something under her breath. Sasori shifts minutely and she jumps, turning her attention onto him.

Through weary, lidded eyes, he stares at her and the girl returns his gaze unblinkingly.

"Don't just stare at me like that," she says, taking a seat across from where he was laid out on a bed. A smirk stretches across her full lips, "I may have just saved your life- you should really carry medicine for epilepsy though, you know."

"_Whoareoyu_," Sasori's words slurred together, spilling off his tongue as his sight began fading.

He was losing consciousness, and the girl was by his side in a flash. "H-Hey, kid! Don't you dare-"

Sasori ignored her, eagerly allowing dark spots to interrupt his vision of her. He could only hope that he would be sent to another dimension, or perhaps another reality for that matter, where he had a chance of being a puppet again.

Most of all; however, Sasori wanted a peace to quell the tornado of emotions swelling inside. He wanted death- well, a more _permanent_ version at least.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **

Once again, apologies for any spelling and grammatical errors.

Please rate and comment!

* * *

Chapter 2:

"Hi there," Elaine whispered softly, "I'm going to help you, if you don't mind."

When Elaine had discovered the violently shaking, foaming-at-the-mouth, redhead in her backyard, she wasn't sure what to think. At first, she was struck by a bolt of familiarity, then a dash of hesitancy, and finally, a wave of decisiveness- she was a nurse's daughter for godsake- that drove her to take out her phone and start Google searching seizures.

"Alright, cushion their head," she muttered aloud, if only to hear herself think, "Okay, okay. I can do that."

Her hands hovered above the stranger- he was painstakingly attractive; too beautiful for someone experiencing a seizure. His hair was an unnatural ruby-colored mop that lightly brushed his shoulders, surrounding his angled, pale face and eyes.

She took an extra long moment to look deeply into those eyes of his, reading them; they were a deep, chocolate brown and absolutely devoid of life and light- hauntingly vacant as they were beautiful. While she gazed at him, he stared past her, not even realizing she was there.

Gathering up her adolescent hormones- oops, I dropped some- and pride, Elaine looked away. How sexually deprived must she be: examining and fawning over the prone form of (an admittedly god-like) young man!

She could consult her sexuality later; it was time to concentrate on the task at hand.

Support the head, Elaine repeated.

Shifting from her current position to sit on her knees, Elaine proceeded with that in mind. Her fingers weaved themselves into the boy's clothing- rags, she noted with the raise of a brow- before hauling his head onto her thighs.

She tried to ignore the romantic notion behind the gesture; watching the clouds with your boyfriend splayed on your lap. There was absolutely nothing romantic about her situation- a boy was twitching and foaming onto her shorts for godsakes!

Whipping out her cell phone, Elaine looked at her next direction.

"I have to position him onto his side..."

With him still on her lap, Elaine reached underneath his shoulderblades, only pausing as a horrifying scream emitted from his throat, taking hold of and vibrating the world around her. Various colors; the blues, greens, yellows, and reds of her surroundings blurred together, swirling and mixing in tandem before settling back into their original places within seconds.

If she had blinked, she would have missed it. "What the hell-"

Suddenly, his hands flew to his throat, stealing away her attention. His fingernails were raking violently at the white of his throat, demolishing the skin until it was raw and red, blistering and flowing with blood.

"Stop!" Elaine grabbed to restrain him- bad move, and he lashed out; shouting and clawing blindly at her, procuring bleeding scratches along her arms and neck.

After a moment, Elaine pulled away from his destructive power. Panting with little bouts of pain radiating through her body, she gave herself a critical once over, examining all of her abrasions. The injuries she sustained were nothing laughable- Sleeping Beauty had done a number on her, however she found herself more concerned with the redhead and his wounds.

Looking back over, the boy had resumed his self-directed assault. If she didn't somehow constrict his violent movements- or ease his mind, he would only continue to unconsciously attack himself.

With little options left, Elaine stretched out a hand tentatively, intertwining her fingers with the boy's nimble ones. He gripped her hand tightly, hard enough to leave bruises, but she hardly cared. The results were worth it, as the redhead, still convulsing and shaking in her lap, calmed significantly, apparently comforted by their conjoined hands.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there; he finally unconscious and she too scared to disturb him. Yet, when the sun began setting and night quickly fell upon them, Elaine decided it was time to head inside.

Slipping his head from her lap, she rose unsteady onto sleepy legs, wobbling to the shed and unlatching the lock on the door. She poked around, tossing rollerskates and shovels until she found the snow sled. Dragging the sled til it sat beside the redhead, Elaine haphazardly rolled the boy's prone form onto it.

This, she mused, pulling the sled toward her home, is how you catch yourself a man.

It wasn't until she spilled the half-naked redhead onto her bed that she started to think coherently about her situation. What type of girl went around dragging epileptic (half-NAKED) boys into her bedroom at night? She had to get him out; her mother would kill her and ask questions later.

Pacing from one end of her bedroom to the next, Elaine considered loading her patient back onto the sled and taking him right back outside where she could continue to discreetly treat him in the shed. She was finalizing these plans, mumbling aloud the antibiotics she would need to treat his neck when the shuffling of bedcovers grabbed her full attention.

Her patient was awake.

Mesmerizing brown eyes trained on her, Elaine felt her heart flutter into her throat. To function at her highest, he would have to stop that.

She needed to sit down. "Don't just stare at me like that."

Walking over to the desk chair, which had been whirled around to face her bed, she took a seat and stared him down, conjuring up enough false confidence to smirk.

"I may have just saved your life," she gloats, spinning lightly in her chair, "You should really carry medicine for epilepsy though, you know."

From the boy's mouth spilled a series of jumbled words she couldn't comprehend, and before she knew it, his eyes were retreating back into his skull.

Unbelievable!

"H-Hey, kid!" Elaine scurried to his bedside, her hands seizing and shaking his shoulders violently in an endeavor to rouse him back into consciousness, "Don't you dare you mother-fucking asshole!"

It was no use however; her redheaded patient was under.

* * *

It was about 3 a.m. when the redhead stirred again. Elaine was finally settling down for the night, or what was left of it at least, growing increasingly comfortable in her makeshift bed on the floor when she grew acutely aware of the pair of eyes burning into her back from across the room. At first, she didn't move- what would she say? What if he passed out again?

Thankfully, she didn't have to say anything.

"Who are you?" His voice was low and raspy, probably from the damage he'd done on his throat earlier. She turned over to meet his gaze, observing him; dark bags, like mementos of his ordeal, hanging underneath his eyes.

"Elaine," she answered, fighting back a yawn. God, she was tired. "How are you feeling?"

"Too much," the young man grunted, leaving Elaine puzzled. She decided not to ask, and he continued, "What dimension is this?"

"Dimension?" She echoed disbelievingly. What is he talking about?

The redhead sighed impatiently, "Well, judging by the lack of chakra here, it would seem that I am not in my own."

Chakra, Elaine mused, smirking, like from Naruto? Was this kid on something? Did he hit his head too? Whatever it was, he was obviously disillusioned.

Begrudgingly, she shrugged off the covers and stood up, slipping on some sneakers. "Dude, I think you need to get to a hospital..."

If luck was on their side, they could slip out of the house and no one would ever know what had transpired. To top it off, she could just leave the crazy boy in a hospital bed and wipe her hands clean of him for-

In a second, the redhead's hand was at her throat. His speed was unreal, and his grip on her neck, despite her squirming, was like iron.

"You will address me as Sasori," he breathed, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Elaine froze, unable to move for a number of unspeakable reasons. "-and I do not NEED a hospital. What I NEED are answers. Which, if you are unable to supply me with..." A knife slid out from his sleeve, which the redhead deftly caught without batting an eye, "Makes you disposable. Do you understand, little girl?"

Elaine nodded. She understood alright. Understood that Sasori- a _fictionalized_, S-ranked criminal- was pinning her to a wall by the neck and threatening her with a knife. She stared at him, trying to dissociate him from the manga character she had sympathized with, yet the more she did stare, the more could see his eerie resemblance to him.

There were so many things wrong with this situation, the biggest being his impossible existence in the first place.

"H-Holy shit," Elaine pushed past him, stumbling to the bed and observing him from the across the room. It was really him... "Did I hit my head? Am _I_ the crazy one here?"

"Calm down, girl," Sasori commanded, barely keeping the irritated edge from his tone. Her behavior was becoming exhausting.

Suddenly, Elaine bolts to the closet near her door, rummaging through it for her single, and only, Naruto manga. It was the chapter right before the timeskip, a winged and demented-looking Sasuke on the cover.

"I'm not sure what you'd call this 'dimension'," she says, plucking the manga from its shelf, "But you're not supposed to be real in it."

Tossing the book to Sasori, he catches it easily and begins flipping through it. Familiar faces pasted on the pages immediately catch his eye; some being the pink-haired brat before she became a destructive powerhouse, the colorblind Kyuubi host and Itachi's younger, less-talented brother. It was surreal, seeing a piece of his world- the things he knew and didn't know- printed in a small book.

After a moment, he looked up. "Are there more?"

Elaine nodded, yawning, "You can read them online. If you want, I can pull them up for you..."

Sasori shook his head, "No. Now go to sleep, you look awful."

What happened to his world before, or after his death, was none of his concern. He was already dead; nothing would change that. His only focus now would be finding out what his purpose in this world was, and then, accomplishing it. Nothing else mattered aside from making sure his second chance at life was not in vain.

He was sent here for a reason- maybe even sent to _her_ for a reason.

This time he would not mess up.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **

Hi everyone, Maddygirl4932 here! This is just a chapter to establish relationship dynamics, nothing too important aside from a base for their interactions. Everything starts taking an... interesting turn next chapter, as Sasori turns predatory.

That should be fun to write.

Anywho, remember to **review** and **favorite**.

Apologies for any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes!

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

Unsurprisingly, Elaine did not go right back to sleep. With a killer in her bedroom, dozing off was near impossible for the neurotic adolescent, so instead, she flocked to safety down in the kitchen and began cooking breakfast. Her father always said the fastest way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and considering that Sasori was human again, she hoped food was also the fastest way to a man's knife because she wanted to get his away from him as soon as possible.

Dragging her sore eyes to the clock above the stove, Elaine couldn't even bring herself to be tired anymore. Here she was at five in the morning, cooking breakfast in hopes of winning over the murderous and fictional character in her bedroom.

God, she must sound like a lunatic.

Turning back to her frying pan, Elaine scraped the scrambled eggs onto a plate with a spatula. Adding the bacon she'd fried earlier and throwing some salt as a final touch, she sat the steaming plate down on the table. Repeating the process for her own plate, Elaine cut off the stove and went upstairs to fetch Sasori.

Sasori was still in her bedroom, probing through anything he could find like some curious animal. As he plucked though her driver's manual, Elaine couldn't help but find it interesting that for someone with such uncaring eyes, he truly possessed an spark for knowledge. Had he not held her at knifepoint only hours before, she might have even laughed at the irony of the situation.

Instead, she cleared her throat. "I... made breakfast…"

The redhead barely look at her, toying with her xbox controller with idle interest. "Eating is pointless."

"Said no one ever. You are going to eat, Sasori." She said definitively, her hands resting on her hips. He wasn't a puppet anymore; eating, drinking and everything else human was now a necessity. Not to mention, she didn't spend all of yesterday reviving him only so he could die from stubbornness and starvation. "NOW."

"You better watch your tone, girl."

But Elaine wouldn't back down. She had witnessed the fear in his eyes; the scratches to prove how hard he was fighting to live running up her arms. It was obvious that Sasori didn't want to die.

He was her patient. Plus, it'd be really lame if Sasori died of starvation in a perfectly stocked house.

"And you," Elaine paused, glaring, "better listen to your doctor."

Why was she defying him?

Eyes raking over her body, Sasori searched as if it held the secret to her defiance. She looked like the average girl, aside from her boyish cut and skin, which happened to be darker than the traditional 'pale-faced beauty'. While her figure sported a slight muscle tone that defined her feminine features, accentuating her small chest and wide hips, she was still vulnerable in comparison to him. Nothing about her supported the illusion that she could defeat him.

In fact, while it was difficult to see under the baseball cap the girl seemed so fond of, Sasori could see the faint hint of a blush staining her face. Typical girl.

He could kill her within seconds; slitting her throat or cutting her into pieces before she could even blink. He could wring her neck out like laundry or break every bone in her body for simple _entertainment_. If he wanted, he could even destroy her emotionally without touching a hair on her head. He was a ninja and could very well do as he pleased with her…

...and yet some part of him felt refreshed by her determination, or idiocy, depending on who you asked. It wasn't everyday that former-Akatsuki member Sasori was challenged by someone, let alone a civilian.

Sasori narrowed his eyes at her, smirking in amusement, "And what if I don't want to?"

THAT caught Elaine off guard. She had been expecting to get reaquainted with knifey after brashly loudmothing the temperamental redhead, not teased by him!

"Then I won't force you," she replies, walking halfway down the stairs before adding casually, "You'll just die, that's all."

As Elaine made her way back to the kitchen, Sasori followed quietly, thrown off kilter by her bluntness and casualty toward the subject of death. Females, especially civilians, usually sugarcoated their words with buffers and, occasionally, straight out fabrications in order to cushion its meaning.

It appeared that Elaine didn't bother with feelings, and while sometimes hesitant in her speech, didn't beat around the bush or play games when it came to expressing herself clearly.

There were no reading in between the lines, something he could appreciate.

Rounding the corner leading into what he presumed the kitchen, Elaine was already removing a heated plate from the microwave, setting it down on the table. While it had been nearly two decades since his last meal, Sasori could tell the girl was many things- a medic, a pain in the neck, and an idiot- a cook was not one of them.

He sat down at the table, watching his food distrustfully, as though it would climb off his plate. As a Shinobi, he wasn't privileged to exquisite dining. Elaine's cooking, however, took the cake.

Her _eggs_- if you could call the slimy, untouched mess on his plate that- were partially uncooked and covered in a visible layer of salt while the bacon, black and burnt from her horrible cooking, carried enough grease to soak through and ruin the delicately buttered slices of bread she'd placed on the side of his plate.

"This is inedible," he comments duly, pushing his plate away like a petulant child.

"Apparently not, I'm eating it just fine."

"That speaks much about you, girl," Sasori drawls, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You would have made an excellent ninja."

Curiosity spiked, she asks, "How so?"

"For someone in your situation, you are awfully levelheaded," the redhead reports, obviously having been observing her. "You aren't very soft... you are direct."

Elaine glances at him in between bites, the subtlety of her jaw tightening being the only sign he'd irritated her. "Thanks... I think. You want cereal or something?"

"As long as you don't touch it," the redhead signed, sliding out from his seat, "Where are the bowls?"

"There," she replies, pointing toward a cabinet to the left of his head. She watches him for a moment as he casually searches through it, a feeling of discontent creeping up on her. "I'm not sure how I feel about you getting comfortable here…"

"You are well aware of my situation. However, so you better understand, we should talk about it while I'm feeling... sociable." Sasori says.

He did seem rather approachable this morning. While having a seizure and waking up in a strange world wasn't a recipe for social butterflies, he was much more tolerable now then when he'd awoken. No knives, uncomfortable silences or prolonged staring.

It was almost comfortable, like old buddies.

It scared her.

"Okay," Elaine said, pushing her finished plate to the side and folding her hands neatly, "Talk to me."


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **

Things are finally taking off in this chapter!

Please review and favorite!

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

Sasori woke up first the next day. He wasn't surprised to see the mouthy civilian girl still bundled tightly in her bed, which she had reclaimed as hers. Shinobi, nuke-nin especially, never slept much. Six hours at the most, and looking at the digital clock on Elaine's pink nightstand, he'd only slept about four.

Elaine, after not sleeping a wink the other night, wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. Neither would her mother, who had stayed all night at the hospital and now was sleeping soundly in her bedroom.

Thus, he had a lot of time to kill.

Slipping down the staircase, the Shinobi was careful not to make a creak. The girl, while warming up to the idea of housing a 'deranged murderer' as much as a someone like herself could, was still extremely wary towards him.

He did not necessarily blame her either; if the whim ever hit him, perhaps he would kill the girl.

And if truth be told, he'd fantasized of the moment ever since she had mouthed off to him yesterday.

His hands on her throat, choking from her the life and passion he'd fixated himself upon. And their eyes! They would be locked, he'd make sure of that. That way, he could watch them grow dimmer and dimmer.

He'd be the last sight she saw.

...But for now, he was stuck with killing time instead.

Hitting the corner, Sasori began stripping off his ragged shirt, discarding it at the base of a potted plant without halting his stride through the kitchen, making his way to the backyard.

Opening the screen door, he felt the morning breeze rush past and ruffle his red locks. It was… calming here, in this dimension. While he was never truly at 'peace', he figured this life was as close as it would get. While his Shinobi sense would never fade, there was never a nearby chakra alerting him into fighting stance or a stray Hunter-nin attempting to take his life.

The most he'd have to worry about being the day Elaine finally snapped under pressure and came at him with a knife, something he could easily maneuver.

With a series of basic taijutsu punches, Sasori smirked, he'd give it two days, tops.

* * *

"Ugh," Elaine groaned, the harsh light that invaded through the windows assaulting her already sore, sleep-deprived eyes.

She wasn't a morning person; the night carried her life and her interests, and if she didn't have plans today, which mainly focused on integrating an otherworldly, S-ranked Shinobi into everyday society as a normal human being, well, she probably wouldn't have woken up at all.

Another groan and she's hefting herself out of bed, letting the thick blanket pool around her legs and stretching her arms.

"Sasori?" She yawns, eyes sweeping the room for the increasingly familiar redhead.

Where could he gotten off to?

Loud cheering drew her attention to the bedroom window that overlooked her backyard, "Sasori! Sasori! Sasori!"

A small group had formed around her striking companion, not that he seemed to mind. With a slight smirk on his face from the ego stroking cheers, Elaine watched from her window as Sasori continued a whirl of kicks and flips- definitely a glorified version of the throat-slitting maneuvers he'd used in the manga.

Thankfully, he was only using taijutsu.

...that still didn't make this situation right.

Turning away from the window, she changed into some navy shorts, a gray top and slipped into her sneakers before making her way downstairs.

Walking through the kitchen, her eyes caught on the familiar brown of Sasori ratted shirt by her mother's orchid.

Needless to say, Elaine guzzled down some V8 juice- a little liquid strength- before walking outside into her backyard to face the partially naked redhead.

"Sasori!" She shouted from the outskirts of the group, her voice drowning in the crowd's boisterous cheers, "Sasori!"

The redhead casually somersaulted before attacking the air in front of him with a series of roundhouses. If he had heard her, he was ignoring her.

Elaine began worming her way through the tightly packed and quickly growing mass, squeezing her lean body between everything from burly construction workers to little kids.

Sasori was an entertainer in every sense of the word.

From the glimpses she caught as she wormed her way through, Sasori was absolutely flawless- a work of art himself. After hours of training, only a thin sheen of sweat covered his shirtless body, holding her gaze for much longer than she'd like. His muscles were lean, rippling with every kick, punch and flip, and his movements perfect and calculated.

A real Shinobi...

This HAD to stop!

Popping through the barrier of people at last, Elaine finally a perfect view of her redheaded houseguest, quickly catching his eye. Throwing her a lazy smirk from across the way, he beckoned her over with a slight wave of his hand.

The crowd gasped as she marched up to him, "What the hell do you think you're doing out here!?"

"Training," He replied simply, "Did you enjoy the show?"

Had he seen her? Staring and utterly encaptured by the way he moved? Feeling her face flush, she bowed her head to hide underneath the brim of her cap. "The show was...nice."

She wasn't going to lie.

"But these people need to go home, Sasori. Now."

Flicking the hair from his eyes, he smirked down at her as if sizing her up. There she went again, telling him that to do. One day, she was sure she'd wake up to him standing over her bed, knife-in-hand.

"Move bitch!" A man shouts, his loud voice carrying overtop the crowd. She didn't recognize him as one of her neighbors, something she was glad for, considering the intoxicated unsteadiness he held. "You're blocking ninja-boy!"

She rolls her eyes at him before turning her attention back to Sasori. "See? I mean, if you're going to be 'staying' here for a little bit, making friends isn't a horrible idea. But-," her hand motioned to the drunk, "-do you really want to make friends with that piece of scum?"

"Making friends was not the intention, girl."

He stepped forward, decreasing the space between them and immediately, she stepped backwards, increasing it.

Almost a dance, almost.

"Why would I have need for their company," his hand raised, sliding down her cheek and sending chills through her body, "When I have yours?"

"What are you-"

"Don't ignore me you little BITCH!"

Suddenly, a beer bottle came hurtling for her head. It cut through the air with blinding speed, the drunkards anger propelling it forward. Her hands moved on their own, rising to protect her face while her body tensed, preparing for impact.

Closing her eyes, she waited for the pain to come.

* * *

Logically, it should not have bothered him when the bottle came for Elaine's head.

It should have hit, breaking into a million shards that would have embedded themselves in her brain, hopefully ridding him of her constant presence.

But watching her tense; crouching into herself with nothing but her arms for protection.

Watching her become weak?

Well, that made him angry.

She was so strong around him; telling him when he was wrong or offensive, stealing back her bed, mouthing off whenever he tried intimidating her…

...And if Elaine wouldn't cower for him, he certainly wouldn't let her cower for some pathetic drunk.

Before he knew it, his hand had shot out, catching the bottle seconds before it made contact with Elaine's head. He squeezed the bottle's neck, letting it shatter in his grip if only to take his frustrations out on something- since he figured, Elaine wouldn't allow him to take it out on her attacker, deserving as he was.

But he still wasn't satisfied.

Stalking forward, he snatched the man up with his now bleeding hand, raising him up the collar of his shirt. "I'll give you a good show, huh?"

Elaine sniffled behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "S-Sasori?"

He wanted to yell at her. Remind her how wrong she was being, by acting like this. She didn't cry; not when he held her up by knifepoint, clawed at her arms, or threatened her life.

"Sasori..."

The crowd was retreating, fast. It seemed his killer intent was still as vicious as ever, warning everyone in the area to duck and cover.

His arm drew back, disregarding the drunken wails and incessant apologies coming from his victim. The man deserved what ever came, even if Elaine only allowed a good punch or two.

"Sasori!"

"What?!" The redhead swiveled, meeting her tear-streaked face and diluted brown eyes. An uncomfortable sight to say the least, seeing her look so vulnerable and wounded.

It was so, _so_ wrong.

Her arms weaved around his neck, "Make him suffer."

Elaine needn't tell he twice. He nodded obediently, a vicious smile spreading across his lips while the man shivered in his grasp.

She was always full of pleasant surprises.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

I know, Sasori's feelings toward Elaine are pretty... complicated.

He's very much a deranged criminal, so I wanted his subtle attraction to her to be deranged as well.

He'll sort it out later... hopefully.


End file.
